


What I Can't Live Without

by aatticsaltt



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergence - Spider-Man: Far From Home, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Married Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Peter Parker is a Mess, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Teen for language, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, save him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:21:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24097987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aatticsaltt/pseuds/aatticsaltt
Summary: Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown.Heavy lies the heart of the father who has to watch his son bow beneath the weight of the world.or: When Peter calls Happy needing a ride out of the Netherlands, it's Tony who comes to the rescue.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 33
Kudos: 482





	What I Can't Live Without

**Author's Note:**

> a wonderful commission from [somefirewhiskeyfortheway](https://somefirewhiskeyfortheway.tumblr.com/). thank you so much for the commission, and i hope you enjoy!

Happy was visiting the lake house when he got the call.

Or, more accurately, he was visiting _Morgan,_ because everyone loves her more than they loved Tony. As they rightfully should, but no one ever visited for _Tony_ anymore. Frankly, it was just hurtful. The only one he could trust to visit him anymore was Peter, and even then, Morgan’s puppy eyes were starting to win her older brother older.

(Tony maybe was a little moody over it. Maybe, possibly… completely. But you won’t catch him admitting it; he’d go blue in the face arguing before he admitted to anyone but Peter that he was acting selfish when he snuck the kid down the newly designed workshop to tinker for hours. To watch his brilliance shine through, to watch him smile when he got something right. To listen to him laugh, and talk and _breathe._

God, Peter breathing was a beautiful thing.

Pepper accused him of hoarding Peter from their five-year-old, and that he was being more childish than Morgan, but Peter was _his._ There were few things Tony claimed as solely his own, and for these last nine months, that had been Peter. He couldn’t stand the separation; couldn’t stand not having Peter’s attention, because for the last five years, Tony had been the only one who remembered Peter Parker as more than just another name written in stone.

No one else had known Peter the way he did — no one had _mourned_ like he did. Peter Parker had been another name among millions, but he’d once been Tony’s everything.

Now, he shared the title with Morgan. That was okay, though; Tony’s heart was big enough for the both of them.

Even if he still pouted when Morgan successfully pulled Peter away from his side. He was getting better. Really, he was! Tony was learning to let his white-knuckled grip on the kid ease up, little by little. This damn trip to Europe should be evidence enough of that, even though he’s had a panic attack every night about it.

The distance was hard, but he was surviving it. Therapy tended to be rather helpful.)

Prior to the call, in which Tony drug his eyes away from the blueprints he was sketching on the tablet for a new suit upgrade for Peter to look at his old friend, Morgan had been chattering on about the latest episode of the newest My Little Pony season. Happy’s head had been tipped down to listen avidly to every word coming out of her mouth, ever the dutiful uncle.

Then the call came.

The call in of itself was odd — Happy very rarely received calls out of work hours anymore. Anyone who would bother to call him otherwise was in the house (Rhodey and Pepper in the kitchen preparing breakfast, because Rhodey was allowed in the kitchen, but not Tony, which was absolute mutiny; he demanded a trial, but Pepper refused his right to be heard in court). 

“Huh,” Happy said after he fished out his phone. “It’s a random number, but it’s Peter’s secure ID.”

_Peter?_

Tony sat upright dizzyingly fast, mind awash with a million questions that all buzzed too loud. Why was Peter calling Happy of all people? Wasn’t he supposed to be off doing dorky teenager things when his dorky teenage friends? Was he okay? Why wasn’t he calling on his own phone? 

More importantly: why didn’t he call _Tony?_

When Happy swiped to answer the call, Tony met his friend’s eye and mouthed ‘ _speaker_ ’ _._ Happy nodded, and hit the button to send the call to speaker. To Morgan, Tony put a finger to his mouth. She giggled, mimicked the gesture, and stayed quiet.

Morgan was so good. Tony would have to buy her a new toy. Doesn’t matter she has more toys than she could ever play with in a lifetime, Tony was getting her a new one because she fucking deserved it.

“Hello?” Happy said.

“Hey. Hey!” That was definitely Peter; Tony’s heart squeezed at the sound of his kid’s voice. Peter sounded _wrecked;_ he sounded exhausted and scared, and Tony despised whoever made his kid sound like that again. Thanos was supposed to be the worst of it all, so why was his baby still suffering? “Uh... I messed up. I need a... I need a ride.” 

“Okay, kid, I got you,” Happy said. “Where are you?”

“Where am I? Uh... where am I, sir?”

It was clear Peter was no longer talking to them. Tony shifted forward in his seat, leaning closer to the phone to hear every trembling breath Peter took. _Where are you, baby?_ Tell daddy where you are, so he can come make it better again.

So he can chase away the fear in your voice and promise (even if Tony could never truly promise, but he wishes, _god_ he wishes) everything will be alright.

“Hang on,” Peter said to the phone again, then to whomever he was speaking to, “Could you say that into there?”

An unknown voice came through the speaker, then. An older gentleman, by the sounds of it. He said, “Hi, it's Broek op Langedijk.” Wherever the fuck _that_ was. Real helpful, random guy. You should get a medal.

Actually, he probably should. He was helping Peter, and that deserved the goddamn Nobel Peace Prize in Tony’s mind.

“FRIDAY?” Tony said, urgent. 

“ _It’s in the Netherlands, boss,_ ” FRIDAY replied.

“Hey, listen, thank you,” Happy said, while Tony killed himself trying to figure out why his kid was in the Netherlands when he was supposed to be in France. What had Peter gotten himself into this time? Why hadn’t Tony noticed?

“Yeah, no problem,” the man said. Peter was on the phone again in seconds, saying his thanks to the man, which assuaged Tony’s momentary fear the kid had poofed while he was unable to hear Peter’s voice to reassure himself it was not _good,_ but not _terrible,_ either.

The kid was still here, still alive. Tony can deal with the rest. Maybe. He might have a heart attack before they get there, but Peter always did have a special way of stressing Tony out. It was part of the reason why Tony loved him so much, even if Tony did wish Peter would just take a damn chill pill once in a while. Maybe take a quick breather on his plight to send Tony into an early grave.

Tony wasn’t going to hold his breath.

“Did you get that?” Peter asked.

“Yeah, kid, I got it,” Happy said. Their eyes met, and Happy nodded, understanding the look in Tony’s eyes without needing to hear a word. “Listen, help is on the way, okay? FRIDAY’s got the location loaded into one of the jets already. We’re gonna get you, kid.”

“We?” Peter said, then seemed to brush it off. “Okay. I’ll-I’ll see you soon. There’s, um, there’s a tulip field nearby. Can’t miss it. I’ll wait there, okay?”

“Help will be there in no time, kid, just hang on.”

Tony didn’t stick around to hear what Peter’s reply was. The second he heard tulip field, Tony was on his feet and out the door. The frantic drive to the Avenger’s compound, where his closet jet was stored, was a blur. Peter hadn’t offered much by way of explanation, but if his stubborn little ass was calling for help in the first place, it couldn’t be good.

Why had Tony let him go on this stupid trip? It was ridiculous. Nine months after children had been dead for half a decade, their school ships them across the world. Who even thought this was a good idea? Who convinced Tony it was a good idea? He should’ve kept Peter safe, should’ve said no, or at least fucking gone with his class. Who would say no to Iron Man?

At the compound, Steve was there training some new recruits. (That’s great, awesome, Tony should stop by sometime to say hi when his son wasn’t suffering a world away from Tony.) All of their little gaggle of curious heads stared at Tony as he flew past with wide, amazed eyes.

Steve’s brows raised, shoulders tense for the battle he saw looming in Tony’s eyes. There was a question on his tongue that Tony wasn’t sure he had an answer for, so he shook his head before Steve had the chance to ask and hurried on. There was no time to explain. All he cared about was getting to Peter.

The flight to the Netherlands was torture.

Tony paced the length of the jet a hundred times over, whittling his ring finger down to nothing where he couldn’t stop anxiously spinning his wedding ring. His mind blurred through the possibilities until the insistent stinging of tears never quite seemed to fade away. He was sitting on the edge of a cliff he’d fallen off before, and he never wanted a taste of the abyss again.

But until he saw Peter — hours away, even in a jet Tony designed — he couldn’t relax. He couldn’t stop thinking of _I’m sorry,_ and wondering how much worse it might be if he wasn’t there in time to at least hold his son if he had to go a second time.

Tony wouldn’t hold it against him, god, he never could. But Tony knew he’d never survive the second go round. The first time had been agonizing; watching Peter Parker die again would kill him.

By the time FRIDAY announced they’d reached the Netherlands, all other thoughts were muffled by the mantra of _not again, not again, not again._ Tony’s body pulsated with the words until his fingers, flesh and artificial, rattled faster than the galloping beat of his heart. 

Not knowing Peter’s state him spiraling, and he knew he was quickly headed towards the Totally Useless Lump of Anxiety category of human beings, but he couldn’t stop fucking thinking. And thinking made him panic, and panic made him shake, and shaking made opening the jet’s door all the harder when they finally, _finally_ landed in the tulip field close to where FRIDAY had traced Peter’s call.

His eyes cast out across the tulip field. If he wasn’t so panicked, he could’ve appreciated how lovely the scenery was. The tulips were bright splashes of yellow and pink, and the grass waved a cheery, green hello where it bordered the field. The wind was gentle and smelled like summer rain.

All Tony could see was Peter.

“Oh, my love,” Tony whispered.

Tony didn’t know where to look first — Peter’s face, still marred with dried blood and barely-healed cuts. Peter’s leg where it twisted the wrong way at his knee cap, barely able to support his weight. Peter’s side that he clutched at almost desperately, like he’d fall apart if he let go for even a moment. Peter’s eyes that held unspeakable terror, wild when they met Tony’s wide, horrified eyes.

Tony jogged down the steps of the plane, heart in his throat, Peter’s name strangled in his mouth, barely making it out with the last remaining sips of air lingering in his lungs. Every ounce of his body hurt with the desperate, innate desire to _fix it, make it better,_ but he had no idea where to start. His baby was broken, the pieces were right before him but they had been scattered by foreign hands and Tony _hated it._

 _Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown._ Heavy lies the heart of the father who has to watch his son bow beneath the weight of the world. 

Tony stopped mid-stride, hand still outstretched as he reached for his son, when Peter shouted, “Stop!”

“Peter,” Tony choked out. Words were nearly impossible, but Tony forced himself to speak for Peter. Always for him, _anything_ for him. “Peter, are you okay?” Obviously not, dumbass. Tony switched tactics before Peter could reply. “What happened to you?”

“W-what happened to _me?_ ” Peter squawked. “You’re _dead!_ ” His kid staggered a step back like he’d been slapped across the face, then another, struck with terror. “It’s _you._ Oh, god, not again. Fuck, this can’t be happening. Please, don’t do this to me again. _Please."_

The begging took the white-hot knife that had plunged into his heart and twisted so violently he was sure for a moment his heart had finally given out. Tony took a deep breath, struggling to keep the rage and anxiety under control until he was absolutely sure Peter was going to be okay.

“Kid,” he started, but Peter cut him off.

“ _Don’t._ Don’t call me kid. That was Tony’s name for me.” Peter’s bloody, busted lip wobbled, and the ever-present stinging behind Tony’s eyes swelled. “You don’t get that name anymore.”

“My love, mio amore, it’s me,” Tony said. “It’s Tony. I don’t know who did this to you, but I _promise_ they’re not here right now. It’s just you and me, buddy. Well, and some tulips, but they don’t count.”

It was clear Peter didn’t believe him, but the kid was so good, so goddamn wonderful, that he didn’t turn heel and run like Tony is sure he would’ve, in Peter’s shoes. He stood his ground, shaking almost as bad as Tony and so clearly terrified, but willing to give anyone a chance, even if it meant he got hurt.

“Tell me something only Mr. Stark would know. Before.”

Before. Their shared before. Before Thanos. Before Tony’s world had been ripped out from under his feet. Before Peter died in his arms and the world lost all sense and meaning.

“Okay. One of the weekends you spent at the compound, you’d fallen asleep while watching Ratatouille against my shoulder, and towards the end of the movie, you sat upright and quoted the exact line along with the food critic dude and scared the absolute shit out of me, and—”

Tony would’ve kept going. Anything to get the distrust in Peter’s eyes to go away. But then Peter waved his hand, killing the words in his throat.

“Stop, stop, it’s you, it’s you, but _how?_ I thought… you’re _dead._ The-the snap…”

“It didn’t kill me, piccolo,” Tony insisted, desperate for Peter to believe him so he could hug his kid already. “Someone messed with your head, made you believe that I’m gone but I am _never_ leaving you. Not until you’re seventy years old, and then death is going to have to drag me away kicking and screaming—”

Each word got more breathless until _screaming_ was barely more than an exhale. As he was speaking, Peter had begun to hobble closer to Tony, and Tony couldn’t stop himself from hurrying to meet Peter halfway. When his arms were around his kid, Tony breathed the first easy breath since Happy got the call.

“Mr. _Stark,_ " Peter warbled, and that’s all the poor thing had left in him. The next breath was a sharp inhale before a low, agonized sob that broke down every defensive barrier Tony had left in him. He gathered his kid up close, and threaded his fingers through dirty, curly hair and hid Peter’s rapidly dampening face away in his chest.

The memory of Titan was bitter; the memory of cradling his son as Peter held onto him for dear life, slipping away under Tony’s useless fingers. But he had his son now, broken as he was, and Tony would spend the rest of his life making sure he was put back together.

“Shhh, shh… Daddy’s got you, piccolo. Dad’s here. I’m gonna make it better.”

Peter sank into him and dug his fingers into Tony’s back. They sank to the ground, careful not to aggravate Peter’s numerous injuries. Tony set Peter in his lap, savoring the weight of his kid against him — alive, breathing, hurt, but repairable; Tony could fix whatever this mess was, so long as Peter was breathing, there was hope — until the shaking was almost gone. 

It wouldn’t be gone until they were home, and Peter was wrapped in enough blankets to stretch a mile, but good enough for now.

Peter’s hysterical sobs quieted away as Tony whispered mindless words of comfort over his shoulder. The kid’s fists clenched and unclenched rhythmically around his shirt, like a toddler who didn’t want his dad to go too far. And Tony wasn’t going anywhere, not any time soon.

The full power of the Universe wasn’t enough to take him out. Not when he had a family to come home to. Not when he had a beautiful, talented, amazing little girl who blew his mind every day to know he’d created such a wonderful human being. Not when he had an older son who astounded Tony with his brilliance and kindness and sheer determination.

Not when he had the love of his life by his side, his best friend of nearly forty-years, and his favorite Forehead of Security. Tony had people who needed him, and not a damn thing was strong enough to keep him from them, wherever they may be in the world.

And as long as Peter needed him, he’d always be there.

“You know, you called me Tony,” he said as he scratched his fingers along Peter’s scalp and felt his son sigh into his neck; felt the slow release of tension from his shoulders that had built up through the tears. “You can’t just go back to Mr. Stark on me, you’re gonna hurt my feelings.”

Peter snorted into his shoulder, and Tony knew, one day, everything was going to be alright. For now, they had some serious ass to kick. 

**Author's Note:**

> this is what actually happened in the movie, right? right.
> 
> yay for commissions[!!](https://aatticsaltt.tumblr.com/post/615131377277485056/commissions-thats-right-its-official-in-the)
> 
> absolutely amazing [art](https://sreppub.tumblr.com/post/617328195673456640/tony-didnt-know-where-to-look-first-peters) by the ever wonderful sreppub. (i commissioned this one actually haha)
> 
> Follow me on [Tumblr](http://aatticsaltt.tumblr.com/). I mean, if you want.


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